


Can You Hear Me

by sweetheart35



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Angst, Butch Bowers sucks, Fluff, Gen, Homophobic Slurs, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Internalized Homophobia, Not Canon Compliant, Patrick Hockstetter sucks, Racial slurs, Racism, Vic and Belch are A+ friends, childhood friendships, slurs all around
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-27
Updated: 2018-03-27
Packaged: 2019-04-13 17:29:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14117334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetheart35/pseuds/sweetheart35
Summary: Henry’s father has always been a mean bastard. There’s no denying that. Henry’s earliest memory involves being walloped across his face while his father screamed incoherently above him. Anyone who would strike a three-year-old couldn’t be anything but a bastard, but it still took Henry’s mom another five years and a trip to the hospital to pick Henry up and leave.(Or what would have happened if Henry's mom had taken him with her when she left Butch Bowers)





	Can You Hear Me

**Author's Note:**

> Please heed the tags.

Henry’s father has always been a mean bastard. There’s no denying that. Henry’s earliest memory involves being walloped across his face while his father screamed incoherently above him. Anyone who would strike a three-year-old couldn’t be anything but a bastard, but it still took Henry’s mom another five years and a trip to the hospital to pick Henry up and leave. It took six months for his nightmares to fade and a year for Henry to stop alternating between hating his mother for leaving (because he loved his father as much as he feared him) and all-consuming relief that he didn’t have to be afraid to walk into his own home anymore.

(His father’s voice never completely fades)

Their new apartment is a small, shabby place, with peeling wallpaper and water-stained ceilings, but it’s theirs. Mrs. Bowers can’t afford better; can’t afford it all really. She has no job but the landlord is her cousin and agrees to let them stay as long as she gets a job and soon. Henry would be on his own while she looked for a job, she tells him, but once she got one he could start coming along with her during the day. So while she was off job-hunting, Henry spends the days on the fire escape looking at the brick of the building across from them. It makes him miss being on the farm and the open country, how on the days his father was in a good mood, he would nuzzle his mom’s nose and she would giggle fondly, Henry’s heart felt so full it would burst. He’s too shy to approach the other kids and none of them approach him, watching him instead with suspicious eyes from their own groups of friends.

(He tries to ignore his father’s voice telling him he’s weak for not approaching them, for not being strong enough to assert himself, telling him he’s a  _ cowardpussycowardcowardcoward _ )

He meets Belch not long after he and his mom moved into their new apartment. His mom is looking for a job and Henry, in a fit of boredom, goes wandering through the complex. Belch, even at eight, is a large boy; taller than the rest of the children and seemingly twice as wide. At eight, Belch isn’t the brightest child, but he possesses enough self-awareness to know he was significantly stronger than the other kids his age and enough kindness to avoid being too rough with them. The other children, however, know no such kindness and when Henry sees Belch for the first time, the bigger boy is cornered up against a wall while a couple of kids Henry has seen around the complex throw rocks and yell things like  _ freak  _ and  _ giant. _

After, Henry now sporting a busted lip and a cut above his right eye, he and Belch regard each other warily; Henry, because he is long used to receiving hits from someone bigger than him, and Belch, because he is used to receiving blows from just about anyone who isn’t his mother.

“You coulda hit them,” Henry finally says after a moment. Belch looks at him carefully with thoughtful eyes.

“But I’m bigger than them,” he says after a moment.

“Yeah,” Henry huffs. “Exactly. You’re bigger than them. If you’d have hit them they woulda left you alone.” He barely restrains himself from saying  _ dummy _ , even if he does think this kid is one. Henry’s dad told him he always had to be the first to hit, even if he was small. This kid was huge and didn’t even hit at all. The bigger boy frowns ponderously, clearly thinking this over.

“What’s your name?” He demands after a moment, tired of waiting for him to think.

“Reginald,” the boy answers. “But everyone calls me Belch.”

“Why?” Henry asks, furrowing his brow. Reginald ( _ no, Belch, _ Henry corrects himself) grins widely before letting out the biggest burp Henry had ever heard.

Henry lets out a shriek of laughter, surprising both himself and Belch. Henry can’t stop laughing and a moment later Belch begins laughing with him, a pleased smile on his face.

“Do it again!” Henry demands and Belch lets out another large burp. Henry collapses on the ground, holding his stomach and a moment later Belch carefully sits next to him. Whenever Henry’s laughter starts dying down, Belch gives off another loud burp, sending Henry off again.

When Henry recounts the whole story later to his mother before bed, giggles spilling out of his mouth, she’s struck by the difference a week away from Oscar has made. Henry’s eyes are sparkling and he has a wide-gap toothed smile she’s never seen before. Karen smooths his hair down and kisses his forehead.

“But I think he’s kinda dumb,” Henry says when he’s done telling her about Belch’s burp fest. Karen shifts so she’s facing him more fully on the bed. Henry is sitting cross-legged under his covers and even though his eyes dart to the door every few moments and she knows he misses the farm, he looks content for now.

“Why’s that?” She asks and Henry falls silent. With Oscar, Henry was either told to shut up or received a smack across the face unless Oscar was in a particularly good mood. He was always wrong unless he was parroting back whatever it was her ex-husband was telling him.

“Because,” Henry says finally. “He’s bigger than those other kids and he didn’t punch ‘em or hit ‘em or anything.” He’s looking at Karen defensively and she knows he’s giving her his father’s expectations and he’s expecting her to get angry at him for it.

“Maybe,” Karen says carefully. “He’s actually smarter for it. If he hit them, he could really hurt them because he’s so much bigger than them and then he would get in trouble.”

She hates having to phrase it like that, like it’s something to be used for personal gain, but teaching Henry kindness has always been difficult, especially when Oscar is bellowing against it, day and night, and they’ve only been gone for a week. More than ever, Karen regrets homeschooling Henry and not having him around other children and adults who could have maybe shown him different than the bruises still fading around her eyes and on her arms and back and the lashes across Henry’s back.

_ But nobody taught him to step in and help someone getting picked on, _ she thinks, hopeful.  _ Henry did that on his own _ .

“I’m proud of you,” she tells him quietly, leaning forward to kiss the top of his head. “You did a very good thing, helping...Belch.”

“Really?” Henry asks. “Promise?”

“I promise,” she whispers. “I’m so proud of you, Henry.” There’s a beat of silence before Henry’s thin arms are wrapping around her neck and he’s squeezing her tightly. Mindful of his back, she holds him close to her.

\---

Henry pitches a fit when he first finds out he won’t be homeschooled anymore. He doesn’t  _ want _ to go to school with other kids. He wants to do lessons in the morning and work on the farm with his daddy in the afternoon and he hates living in town. He carries on in this manner until Karen gets fed up and tells him if he wants to go so bad she’ll take him back to his father.

Henry falls silent at the words, staring at his mother with wide eyes. He clearly hadn’t been expecting that and he wasn’t sure how to respond. Karen meets his gaze evenly, expression firm, until Henry shakes his head meekly and is quiet for a moment before asking if Belch would be going to school, too. He seems much happier when she tells he would be and they would probably even be in the same class.

Karen finds a job in the butcher shop on Main Street. When school starts up, Henry is supposed to head there so she can keep an eye on him and make sure he’s actually doing his homework. He usually sits in the back, bent over his social studies or English, two subjects he struggles with the most, and when there are no customers in the shop, Karen will come back and help him with his homework. Occasionally, Belch will tag along and will help Henry with his math. He has a head for numbers and in return Henry helps Belch with spelling and reading. Belch, as slow as he is, is surprisingly good at understanding the stories they’re given in class.

(“I don’t get it,” Henry grumbles sulkily one day. “You can barely read but you still know what the story is about.” Belch shrugs ponderously, his face scrunched up as he thinks about it.

“It’s not hard when you read it to me, Henry,” he finally says, gracing Henry with a brilliant smile. Henry tries not to feel warm all over. Belch has the  _ best _ smiles. “When I look at the words, it’s like they get mixed up or flip-flopped. But you help a lot.”

“That’s why I’m here, dummy,” Henry says, trying not to seem too pleased and smiling back at Belch. “Someone’s gotta get you through school.”)

The butcher shop is also where Henry meets Will Hanlon in person for the first time.

It’s October and Henry’s sitting at the little table in the back as usual, his mom sitting next to him and helping him with plural nouns when the door leading from the alley opens up and a chilly breeze stirs up the papers on the desk. Henry makes an annoyed sound, grabbing for his worksheets so they don’t go flying everywhere while his mother stands.

“Will! I was wondering if you were going to be stopping by today.”

“There were a few problems out on the farm that held everything up but we got it taken care of.”

“I’m glad to hear that. Jacob was getting worried when you didn’t show up at the usual time.” Henry finally looks up, satisfied his homework is safe and sees his mother talking to a tall black man he recognizes Will Hanlon. He’s seen the Hanlons at farmer’s markets in the summer and at the county fair in their own booth, but he’s never approached them, warned off by his father’s dire warnings about those ‘nigger folks’ and the Hanlons in particular.

He feels the familiar burn of anger in his stomach at the sight of him and looks down hastily at his paper. His mom had been a lot more intolerant of what she called ‘bad behavior’ but what had been perfectly normal around his dad. Henry isn’t always sure what counted as ‘bad behavior’ but he has the feeling glaring at Mr. Hanlon was probably considered rude, at the very least. He begins scribbling on his paper in an attempt to look busy. He isn’t going to be outright rude but he didn’t want talk to Mr. Hanlon if he could get away with it.

“Is this Henry?” Mr. Hanlon’s voice is polite and Henry hunches even further over his little table.

“Yes,” Karen answers. “This is my son. Henry?” Henry reluctantly turns in his seat to face the adults. “Come and introduce yourself to Mr. Hanlon.” Henry reluctantly slides out of his seat and drags his feet over.

“Hello, Mr. Hanlon, it’s nice to meet you,” he mumbles, glaring at the floor. Karen draws in a deep breath through her nose.

“Henry, you know how to introduce yourself to someone and that’s not how,” she says sternly and Henry shoots her a look crossed between a glare and pleading. She glares right back, so Henry takes a deep breath, schools his face into the most neutral look he can and looks up at Mr. Hanlon, sticking his hand out.

“Hello, Mr. Hanlon, it’s nice to meet you,” he says again, more loudly.

“It’s nice to meet you, too, Henry,” Mr. Hanlon says, his expression just as neutral as Henry’s. His large hand descends and Henry, out of reflex more than anything, flinches away. His face burns with embarrassment, but Mr. Hanlon doesn’t comment one way or another, just finishes grasping Henry’s in his own. He gives a firm shake before releasing Henry’s hand and Henry escapes the encounter unscathed and a little confused as he watches his mom finish signing for the delivery and Mr. Hanlon tip his hat.

\---

When Henry and Belch are in the fourth grade, Victor Criss joins their class. It’s nearing the end of September when Mr. Oswald, the assistant principal, knocks on their door and walks in with a thin boy with blond hair, an oversized shirt and scuffed shoes. Mr. Oswald has a jovial expression on his face and a hand on the boy’s shoulder, which he probably thinks is reassuring, but Henry knows from experience feels more like a vice. The boy is staring determinedly down at his shoes.

“Mrs. Wilson! This is Victor Criss,” he announces, guiding Victor to the front of the classroom. “He and his family just moved here from Delaware.”

“Oh, lovely,” Mrs. Wilson says brightly. “We always love new students in our class, don’t we?”

“I trust you’ll make him feel welcome,” Mr. Oswald says, patting Victor’s shoulder and heading for the door. Victor finally looks up, watching longingly as the door shuts behind Mr. Oswald. Once it’s closed, he goes back to staring at his shoes.

“Well, Victor,” Mrs. Wilson says. “You just arrived in the middle of fractions.” She pauses looking out over the students before continuing, “Why don’t you go sit next to Henry and Belch there by the windows? Henry is good at math so he’ll be able to help you catch up if you need it.” Victor shuffles over to the empty desk next to Henry and sits down, hands in his lap and not looking around.

“What a weirdo,” Peter snickers from in front of them and Victor hunches further into his seat.

“Hey, why don’t you shut up, Peter,” Henry snaps quietly, keeping a careful eye on Mrs. Wilson. “Nothing’s as weird as that thing you call a face.” Peter whirls around, glowering, but his chair scrapes against the floor and draws Mrs. Wilson’s attention.

“Is there a problem, Peter?” She asks and Peter reluctantly turns back to face the front.

“No, Mrs. Wilson,” he says. “Just saying hello to the new kid.”

“I think that can wait for lunch, don’t you?” She says pointedly and Peter reluctantly turns back around, scowling.

\---

Victor doesn’t really talk to anyone in his new class and beyond that first day, Henry and Belch don’t really go out of their way to talk to him. They’ve been best friends for a year now and as far they’re concerned they don’t need other friends. Occasionally, Victor will lean over to ask Henry a question about the homework, but that’s about the extent of their interactions. He keeps his head down, he avoids the bigger kids and avoids the bullies in their class. If it wasn’t for the fact he sits next to Henry and Belch, they would forget he existed altogether.

When their friendship does come around, it’s a rather unremarkable incident. It wasn’t like Henry and Belch, where Henry drove off the kids picking on Belch when they were eight with the incident forever cemented in their minds. If someone were to ask them how Victor became their friend later on in life, the three of them would look at each other in confusion, shrug and say it had always been like that.

When the final bell for the day rings, Peter immediately shoots up out of his seat, swaggers between Henry and Victor’s desks, and sends his foot directly into Victor’s backpack. It falls open and some of the contents scatter.

“Oh, sorry,  _ Vicky, _ I thought that was just a pile of trash by your desk.” With that, he catches up with Moose and Josh Becker and they leave the room, guffawing loudly. Henry watches them go as Belch moves around the desk to help Victor pick up his things. He wonders if Peter Gordon was the sort of son his dad would want. He can’t help but think bitterly he would be. Peter is the tallest in their class, loud, and the kids respect  _ (fear) _ him. His dad always said a man’s respect was found in fear.

“Whoa, hey, you have  _ US 1? _ ” Belch’s voice breaks through Henry’s thoughts and he turns to Victor and Belch. Belch is holding the comic in his hand and Henry can see it’s the seventh issue. “Do you have the fifth issue? I can’t find it  _ anywhere _ .” Victor blinks, surprised, before nodding slowly. Belch’s face lights up.

“Can I borrow it? I haven’t gotten a chance to read it yet.” Victor is looking at Belch like he’s trying to decide if Belch is playing a joke on him.

“Belch loves  _ US 1, _ ” Henry breaks in. “He’s got them all except issue 5.” Victor looks surprised before looking down at the comic in Belch’s hands.

“I’ll swap you for a  _ Batman _ comic,” he offers quietly. “I’m not a huge fan.”

“Seriously?” Belch beams. “I’ll give you  _ two Batman _ comics if you’re for real!” Victor finally offers a tentative smile and a nod. “Me and Henry are going to my place after school if you wanna come. You can pick ones you don’t have.” He gives Henry a slightly questioning look when he says this but when Henry doesn’t object, he turns back to Victor. “You can use our phone to call your parents if you need to let them know where you are.”

“Yeah, okay,” Victor says, grinning and the three of them scramble to gather their things before heading out.

\---

When Henry is ten, he’s invited to Mike’s eighth birthday party. He hadn’t realized they were friends but apparently the time spent working on homework together in the butcher shop and the few dinners Karen and Henry are invited to at the Hanlons are enough to warrant an invitation.

It’s not too bad, Henry thinks, even if Mike is a couple years younger than him, he does genuinely like Mike. They’re celebrating at the arcade and Henry’s mom gave him a few quarters so he could play the games too and Mike’s parents were apparently bringing an ice cream cake by later. Henry wouldn’t admit it but he’d never had ice cream cake before and he was excited to try it.

He doesn’t know any of the other kids, they’re all from Mike’s church and school, and they’re all polite to him at the very least, but Henry sticks close to Mike throughout the party anyway. He doesn’t notice this unconscious display of shyness, but both Karen and Jessica share a smile when they catch each other’s eye after watching them.

All in all, it’s a good day and Henry and Mike are pouring over Mike’s new baseball cards a little way in front of their parents as they walk with the Hanlons back to the lot where the Hanlons parked before Henry and Karen will continue on their way back to their apartment.

“You’ve got a fine boy, Karen,” Will says quietly, watching the children in front of them. Henry and Mike are of an even height, Henry short for his age, and his hair a dusty blond and long enough to blow in the breeze. It’s a direct contrast to Mike’s own short, dark hair. Will thinks back to the first time he met little Henry Bowers, who was a small ball of rage who hated Will and Mike on sight because of his father, and compares him the smiling, happy boy walking side by side with his own son and now chattering excitedly about the Fourth of July parade that Wednesday.

“Thank you,” Karen says, just as quietly. “I was worried, for a while, after I left Oscar whether or not Henry would…” She trails off and slows her steps. Will and Jessica slow with her. Karen takes a deep breath and turns to face them. “I want to say thank you. For your friendship. And for giving my boy a chance. You had every reason to choose to distance yourself and keep Henry and Mike away from each other and instead you opened your hearts to us and I cannot thank you enough. I really do mean it when I say I think you saved Henry.” Her voice is trembling by the end of her speech, and her eyes are stinging but Karen hasn’t cried since the day she left Oscar, swearing she had no more reason for tears, and she wasn’t about to start now.

Jessica doesn’t hesitate, enveloping Karen in a hug. Karen lets herself lean against the other woman for a long moment. She finally pulls away and gives them a watery smile. Before any of them can say anything further a loud voice breaks the moment.

“What in ever loving fuck is going on?” Karen jerks around, hands already reaching for Henry to pull him back to her as her eyes land on Oscar. He’s lurching his way towards them, eyes bloodshot, and teeth bared. Karen’s hands grasp both Mike and Henry’s shirts and she jerks them back. Jessica pulls Mike to her and Will is already stepping in front of both the women.

“Calm down, Butch,” he says. His voice is firm and causes Oscar to stop his advance, but his wild eyes don’t leave Karen.

“This what you been doing?” He spits. His voice is slurred “You left me and now you’re shacking up with these niggers? That what’s going on, you bitch?”

“Oscar,” Karen says and stops, not sure what else to say. Anything she says is likely to infuriate him further. She’s keenly aware of Henry against her side. He’s trembling like he was the night Oscar put her in the hospital and she’s terrified of what Oscar may do if he gets a hold of him.

“My own wife,” Oscar laments and he’s not brave enough to move any closer to try and push past Will but he’s still staring at Karen with those wild eyes that always scared her and then they shift and land on Henry. Karen inhales sharply and before she even thinks about it, she shoves Henry behind her. Oscar snarls and takes a step forward, his ruddy face flushing even darker with rage and eyes bulging.

“You’re ruining my son,” Oscar shrieks, starting his advance again. Will is planted firmly, ready to meet him, but Karen is scared Oscar is crazy enough to actually try and attack them on the street. “ _ You niggers took my wife and now you’re ruining my son –“  _ Karen hears Mike sob and feels rage bubbling up in her stomach and she’s  _ tired _ of being scared of Oscar, of checking over her shoulder for him when she walks down streets and sick of worrying about Henry when he’s out with Victor and Belch or on his way home from school or to the Hanlons. All that worrying just for Oscar to appear on a day that supposed to be a celebration and to fling around accusations and slurs and to terrify a child who’s done nothing but exist with a different skin color and  _ she is sick of it. _

_ “Stop it, Oscar!” _ She screams. She storms forward past Will, who makes a grab at her arm, but she shakes him off, fury carrying her forward. Oscar stops and is gaping at her, slack-jawed. Karen has never raised her voice at him. Before he left for Vietnam, she never had need to. After he came back, she was too afraid. “ _ You stop it! Nobody took me from you! You were the one who drove me away! You were the one who was ruining Henry! You, with your insults and your fists and your – your poisonous beliefs!” _ There are tears streaming down her cheeks and they’re definitely attracting attention now. People are staring in disbelief at their strange, mismatched group. Good, she thinks furiously. Let them see the results of what they had continually turned their backs on and pretended not to notice.

“You don’t get hurt me and my boy, over and over and  _ over _ again, and then go after the people who have shown us the most kindness we have ever received in this town.” Karen’s voice is trembling and gritty from screaming, but it’s the strongest she’s ever heard herself sound. “Now, you’re going to turn around and  _ leave us alone _ .”

For a moment, silence rings over the street. Oscar doesn’t move for a long moment and she’s worried he’s not going to leave before he turns and shuffles away in silence.

“Mom!” Karen turns just in time for Henry to crash into her, arms squeezing tightly around her waist. She staggers back before catching herself, holding Henry tightly. She’s dimly aware of someone moving people along and breaking up the crowd, but all her attention is on her son.

“I love you so much,” she whispers into his hair.

“I love you too,” he mumbles into her shirt. “We don’t have to be scared of him anymore, do we?”

“No, baby,” Karen murmurs. “I don’t think so.” Henry’s arms tighten.

“Good,” he says quietly.

Their triumph is short-lived when Karen receives the news the next day that there was a fire out at the Hanlons during the night and Mike is the only survivor.

\---

To the surprise of no one, Mr. Bowers is arrested the following day for the fire. An entire street full of people had seen the confrontation between the Hanlons, Karen and Butch, including one of the younger officers who had rounded the corner near the end of the incident and had been moving to intervene when Mr. Bowers had simply turned and walked away. He had asked Karen and Mr. Hanlon if they had wanted to file a report but both had declined, stating they simply wanted to go home and forget the entire thing.

Mr. Bowers is held in jail for about two days before he’s released. Three or four of his drinking buddies had come forward to claim he was with them the entire night of the fire. The chief, fuming, but with no substantial proof to refute the claim, reluctantly allows him to go home.

Henry and his mother attend the funeral. They stand near the back of the crowd at the gravesite. Karen counted Will and Jessica as dear friends, but there were several others, family and people who had been friends for years, who were closer to the Hanlons. As the ex-wife and son of the man everyone believed killed the Hanlons, she was also unsure of their welcome, despite Leroy’s assurances.

At one point, Henry glances over his shoulder and sees his father’s beat-up truck lingering near them. He grips his mother’s hand and she follows his gaze to the truck. His father is watching them carefully and when he sees them looking, gives an almost jaunty little wave. She purses her lips and turns back around.

“Leave it be, Henry,” she murmurs quietly.

“But, mom,” he whispers and she squeezes his hand warningly. Henry falls silent and glances over his shoulder again when he hears the pickup’s engine turn over. For one heart-stopping moment, he’s terrified his father will point the truck at the crowd and run them all over but his father just drives away.

They don’t linger once the service is done. Henry goes up to Mike and they both stand awkwardly for a few minutes. Henry can feel eyes burning into the back of his neck and when he glances over his shoulder, the woman he’s pretty sure is Mike’s grandma is giving him a disapproving look. A few other people he recognizes as the parents at Mike’s birthday party are also giving him disapproving looks and he hastily turns back towards Mike.

“I’m sorry,” he says, his stomach churning. They suddenly feel like the most inadequate words in existence. His father killed Mike’s parents, everyone knows he did, but still he got away with it, and the most Henry can offer are apologies that do nothing to ease the pain or bring back Mike’s parents. “I’m sorry,” he says again, quieter.

“Thanks, Henry,” Mike says, just as quietly. He hasn’t looked at Henry once and Henry wants to give him a hug or a pat on the shoulder but he doesn’t think Mike will respond well.

“I’ll…I’ll see you around,” he says instead. Mike doesn’t say anything and Henry turns away, head ducked to avoid the gazes of everyone else. His mom is standing a little apart from the crowd and when he reaches her, she puts her arm around his shoulders.

“C’mon, sweetie,” she says quietly. “We’ll send them a meal later in the week, okay?” Henry doesn’t think a meal will help much and theirs would probably be thrown out before it gets eaten, but he nods anyway and lets his mom steer him out of the graveyard to the bus stop.

\---

When Henry is in seventh grade, Patrick Hockstetter starts hanging out with their group. Despite being in the same grade, he’s a year older than them, same as Belch. But unlike Belch, who had gotten held back in second grade, rumor has it he had been kicked out of school for a brief period of time the previous year for lighting the contents of Stan Uris’s locker on fire and now he has to stay back as a result. Henry personally would have fast-tracked him into high school so they could deal with him instead, but the administration apparently didn’t agree.

But either way, when Patrick plops himself down at their lunch table that first day, all three boys freeze, Belch and Vic looking to Henry for direction. Everyone knows Psycho Patrick Hockstetter. He keeps to himself, for the most part, and no one messes with him, Henry and his friends included. There have been other instances of his crazy but lighting the locker on fire was the first time he was caught.

If Patrick had stared them down or challenged them in anyway, Henry thinks he and the others would have made him leave. But he didn’t. He sits down, pulls his sandwich out of his bag and smiles at them all benignly. He takes a bite of his sandwich and starts chewing, still smiling. Henry turns back to his own lunch uncertainly and after a moment, Vic and Belch do the same. It seems to establish a pattern in Patrick’s mind. After that, he begins sitting with them every lunch and he sometimes tags along with them after school.

Henry notices that the smaller kids start giving them a wide berth, even when Patrick’s not around. It’s not necessarily a good feeling, but the first time the group runs afoul of a few high schoolers, they leave real quick when they see Patrick approaching and that’s a nice feeling. Henry and his friends aren’t exactly the most  _ popular _ at his school and they’re not the meanest, like Peter Gordon and his crew. If he had to take a guess, their group was sort of middling. People sometimes made fun of Belch for his size and for struggling with school sometimes and once Vic got braces it was a never-ending stream of “brace face” thrown his way, despite at least three other people in their class also having braces. Henry is still the shortest, for all he’s the leader of their group and so it’s a constant litany of ‘short-stack’ and ‘shorty’ and ‘pipsqueak’. At the same time, though, there were kids who would come to Henry for math help or occasionally trade comics with Belch because it’s well-known he has the best collection of everyone in the school.

But with Patrick now looming over their group, the insults slowly die down and even Peter leaves them alone, which he hasn’t done since Henry first started going to school back in third grade.

Hanging out with Patrick is weird. The three of them are reluctant to go their usual hang outs after school because Patrick just falls in step with them and taking him with them seemed too much like acceptance of him and none of them actually  _ want _ him in their group. So they start going other places and Patrick seems like he knows what they’re doing because he always seem to regard them with an air of amusement.

The way Patrick watches Henry makes him uncomfortable, even if Henry can’t explain why. Patrick watches him like he’s an interesting bug or something. When they walk somewhere, Patrick walks too close to Henry, practically on his heels. He stands too close, always brush against Henry and no matter much Henry shifts away, Patrick follows. Belch notices, because he’s not actually stupid and he starts using his bulk to block Henry from Patrick. He and Henry never talk about it but it’s almost like Henry got his own personal bodyguard.

(And Henry’s not  _ weak _ , he’s  _ not _ , but something about Patrick is off-putting in a way the other bullies aren’t and Henry doesn’t think it’s a bad thing to want to feel comfortable with your friends.)

\--

Near the beginning of eighth grade, Henry finds himself well and truly alone with Patrick. The day is hot, the sun beating down on them and there’s a breeze to take some of the heat of off, but not enough to cover the stench from the dump. The four of them had headed there to light off some firecrackers Vic had found in his garage, but after a few hours Belch had to go do his paper route and Vic needed to head home and do chores. Henry, against his better judgement, stayed at the dump with Patrick to set off the last few.

When the last of the firecrackers are gone, Patrick flicks the lighter a few times before stowing back in his pocket and looking at Henry. There’s a gleam in his eyes Henry doesn’t really understand but it makes him uneasy. He looks around the dump, either for a distraction or an escape.

“Henry,” Patrick says and Henry reluctantly drags his eyes to the other boy. “Let me show you something.” Henry regards him suspiciously. Patrick loved “showing” people stuff, whether it was his collection of dead flies or shoving a pair of his dirty gym shorts in some unsuspecting kid’s face. But when all Patrick does is smile, Henry takes a cautious step towards him.

“What?” He asks and when he doesn’t move closer Patrick goes to him.

“Just something.” Patrick pauses, licking his lips. “It feels good.” Henry’s heart is thumping and he’s torn between stepping back because Patrick is unnerving even when he’s just standing there and staying where he is because Patrick is  _ looking _ at him and it’s making him feel warm all over and it’s not unlike when he’s at home in bed and biting his lip to stay quiet so he wouldn’t wake his mom in the next room.

Patrick takes another step forward and reaches for Henry’s belt buckle. Henry is frozen, heart racing so fast he wonders how it’s not bursting right there in his chest and his father’s voice in his head  _ fagfagfagfagfag  _ and then Patrick is  _ touching _ him and it’s so much different when someone else is touching him and Henry is lost until Patrick opens his mouth. Henry can see his mouth moving but he can’t hear him through the blood thumping in his ears.

“Huh?”

“Want me to put it in my mouth? I don’t -” The sudden crushing reality of what they’re doing, what Patrick is doing crashes down on his shoulders and Henry lashes out at Patrick.

_ (In another world, Henry grew up on a farm and doing manual labor every day. In another world, Henry is strong enough to push Patrick off him. In another world, Henry grew up under the influence of his father and is the undisputed leader of the group. In this world, Henry is slim and fast but he’s not strong enough to fight off an older boy. In this world, Patrick is hanging around Henry because he’s an easy target and has always had the upper hand.) _

Henry is shoved up against one of the junked-out cars and cries out as something jams itself painfully into his back. Patrick crowds up against him and Henry’s vision is filled with his smiling face, serene and calm and Henry can’t think through his panic and  _ littlequeerpatheticweak  _ he can barely breathe and Patrick never says a word through it all and when he’s done and lets Henry collapse to the ground, twitching with the aftershocks, he combs a hand through Henry’s hair. Henry presses into the car behind him, eyes squeezed shut tightly.

“You wanted this, you know,” Patrick tells him and he sounds almost kind. Henry wants to throw up. “You wouldn’t have been able to get it up otherwise.” He pets Henry’s hair a few more times before standing and sauntering away.

Henry doesn’t move for hours.

\--

The incident marks a change in Henry. He’s become withdrawn. He won’t participate in class and finishing his homework is a struggle. His mom is worried, Henry knows, but he can’t bring himself to talk to her. How does he tell her her son is a faggot, a disgusting little  _ queer _ ? She’ll hate him if he tells her what happened and word will get around and Henry’s life will be over as he knows it.

Belch and Vic are scared. Henry had never had a reason to shun their backslaps and one-armed hugs, but the first time Belch came in for a hug a week after the  _ incident _ , Henry had jerked back, eyes wide, trying to suck in sharp little gasps and eyes wild. Belch had frozen, his face screwed up in confusion. Vic’s further back, but his eyes are just as wide as Henry’s feel.

Henry is humiliated. He hasn’t flinched from another’s touch like that in years, but he saw Belch’s hand coming towards him and all he had seen was his father’s fist, Patrick crowding in close and he had jerked back in a desperate bid protect himself.

“Henry?” Belch asks. He’s looking over Henry for something to indicate why Henry reacted in such a strange manner, but he won’t find anything, Henry knows. He’d scrubbed himself clean after and he still felt dirty and used and Henry wasn’t sure but he didn’t think the feeling would ever go away.

“I’m fine,” he rasps. He’s not okay. They can see that and he knows it. He’s pale and his hands are shaking and he can feel sweat beading his forehead. He’s pressed against the wall behind him and that has alarms blaring in the back of his mind, but Belch and Vic are far enough away Henry can tolerate it for the time being.

But if he says it enough, maybe it’ll be true.

“Don’t touch me,” he tells them. “I don’t like being touched.” Belch and Vic exchange looks. They’ll be discussing this later without him but as along as they don’t try and talk about it now, Henry doesn’t care what the fuck they do. He repeats, “I don’t like being touched.”

“Okay, Hank,” Vic says slowly. “We get it.” Henry lets out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding and slumps back against the wall, only to tense up again when a voice calls out.

“Hey, fellas!” Patrick lopes up to them. Belch’s eyes dart between Patrick and Henry and Vic has his eyes narrowed before he’s moving and he carefully slides so he’s next to Henry on the wall. Belch leans on the wall on Henry’s other side. Their body language is not welcoming and for the first time they send a message to Patrick they had been wanting to send for months:  _ you’re not welcome _ . Henry feels a rush of gratitude for his friends. They don’t know what’s going, what his problem is, but they’ve been friends for years and they can read him better than anyone besides his mom.

Whatever the issue is, Patrick is at the root of it.

Vic and Belch won’t stand for it.

Patrick stops about ten feet from, eyes darting between the three of them. He seems to reach some conclusion in his mind and he turns and slowly walks away.

\--

When Henry is fifteen, children start disappearing. It started with little Georgie Denbrough. Stuttering Bill is a mess after his brother goes missing and Henry hears the younger boy can barely talk these days. Henry thinks if he had a younger brother maybe he’d be like that too. But he doesn’t and he’s not friends with Denbrough, so while he feels a flash of sympathy for the boy, he puts the incident out of his mind, sure it was just a one-off thing. Maybe the kid fell in the cannel or really did get swept into the sewer.

Next is Betty Ripsom. Henry has half a mind to believe it’s Patrick’s fault. The older boy had stopped hanging around their group, not willing to push his luck. He can take any of them on his own, but all three of them together is a different story, especially Belch. He never stops watching Henry, though. But Patrick and Betty were cousins and Henry thinks it’s not a far stretch for Patrick to not want her around anymore for some reason.

Then it was Derry’s resident teen mother, Cheryl, only a year older than Henry and Vic, then Eddie Corcoran, then a little girl named Veronica and then a curfew gets put into effect.

Henry’s mom insists on seeing him to the bus stop in the morning and she tells him in no uncertain terms is he to go wandering without letting her know first and “For the love of God, if you see your father, head the other direction, Henry.”

Peter Gordon is thriving on the fear settling over the town. He tells the younger kids they’re going to be next and he sneers at Henry and mimes lighting a match and throwing it, asking loudly if his old man is gonna make anyone else go up in flames, to make them disappear. Henry ducks his head whenever this happens and gets out of the hall quickly.

During one of these instances, he catches the eye of Olivia Hanlon, Mike’s cousin. She’s gone pale at Peter’s words, her freckles standing out, and her eyes are tight with fury. Henry feels his face flame red with shame and his stomach twist until he thinks he’s going to be sick. He pushes past her quickly and cuts through the crowd as quickly as he can, ignoring Belch’s calls behind him.

He skips the rest of school that day.

\--

By the time the end of school rolls around, seven kids total have gone missing. Henry’s mom was relieved when Belch rolls up in an old Trans Am, proudly showing off his license. She gives Belch a big hug and tells him how proud she is. Belch grins bashfully, scraping his foot over the ground. The car gives the boys even more mobility, but it also implies slight protection against whatever sicko is taking kids.

“You’re older so you should be safer,” Karen says, but she she says it doubtfully. Cheryl was older than Henry and she had still disappeared. The town seems divided on their opinion on it. One of her older boyfriends or the same guy who is taking the other kids? “But Henry, how would you feel about spending the summer with your grandparents in Port Clyde? You could invite Vic and Belch along, if you like.”

“Can you afford that?” He asks. He’s never actually left Derry but he knows his grandparents live on the coast and the idea of getting to see the ocean is pretty exciting. Belch would lose his shit. Vic had dug out an old camera that had belonged to his dad and had started taking pictures. He’d probably get excited over getting to see the coast, too.

“I wouldn’t have suggested it otherwise,” Karen says fondly, rolling her eyes. “I can’t take off work that long, but I have some savings put back for a trip and I would feel better if you boys were out of Derry until this blows over.” Karen sometimes felt she had three sons instead of one, but the boys were good ones and she knew Jeremiah Criss and Leslie Huggins would feel the same. 

“If you’re sure,” Henry says, looking doubtful but she can hear the barely contained excitement in his voice.

On the last day of school, Henry, Vic and Belch are headed out to the car. Belch has gas money stashed in the glove compartment and their bags are piled in the truck and they’re making a pit stop by the drug store for snacks before heading out.

Henry has shot up a few inches and he’s finally taller than Vic, who takes Belch and Henry’s ribbing with better grace than Henry ever had.

“The way I see it,” Vic says, infuriatingly smug look on his face. “Is I still have time to get taller. You’ll stop growing just before you hit six feet and I won’t.” Belch, already a few inches over six feet, guffaws loudly and cheerfully ignores Henry’s punch to his arm.

“My old man is tall,” Henry grumbles. “I might get his height.” He doesn’t have Butch’s bulk, but Henry is still holding out hope from that quarter. “It’d be the one good thing he gave me.”

“Especially to make up for that mug of yours,” Vic snorts.

“Fuck you, everyone says I look like my mom,” Henry protests. Vic and Belch both stop and give Henry considering looks.

“I dunno, Hank,” Vic says slowly. “I saw your old man in the drug store the other day and you’re definitely as ugly.”

“Yeah,” Belch agrees. “Your face is all squashed like his.” Henry flips them both off and jumps into the front seat. Vic climbs in the back seat and Belch starts the car. As they peel out of the school parking lot, Henry looks over at the entrance and see Patrick watching him. He sinks further down in his seat and doesn’t flinch when Belch reaches over and claps a friendly hand on his shoulder. When Belch lifts it away, Henry’s shoulder tingles and he smiles and for once his father’s voice is silent.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments give me life!


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